To the Roots of His Cerebellum
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: Second Foundationer Beno Kendast is about to face his toughest challenge yet...
1. Surprise

Disclaimer: Beno Kendast belongs to the Isaac Asimov Estate, as does all tyranny and general unpleasantness affiliated therewith.

A/N: I got this idea this morning because, for some reason, I was thinking about something totally different when that little bit in _Foundation's Edge_ about Gendibal's teacher came to mind and wouldn't leave.  You may remember—it talks about old Kendast, "a tyrant to the roots of his cerebellum".  Of course, I simply had to write about dear old Beno Kendast and his tyranny and general unpleasantness (as well as making up a first name for him—apparently Gendibal didn't bother with details like that) because there's simply so much room for parody in this section.  I just love writing Foundation stories because, since there are roughly fifteen at the moment, it's ridiculously easy to come up with new plots.  Not so easy to get reviews...But nobody's even started to get into the possible plots of Robots, Empire, and Foundation combined—there must be thousands.  Actually, most of the new stories here don't seem to be based on the existing Foundation characters, so I have even more plots to play with.  The reason why I mainly write fanfiction instead of original fiction is that I like playing with other people's characters and, occasionally, twisting them a little.  But on to the story—I'm sure you've had enough of me talking now.

To the Roots of His Cerebellum

"Hey, Kendast!"

Beno Kendast looked up irritably, wondering when Werit would just give up and leave him alone.  He was still most certainly not interested in supporting the Young Mentalics' Cerebral Association, as the young man would have known ten seconds before entering the room if he had bothered to take his head out of the clouds long enough to notice.  In fact, if he heard one more thing about this YMCA business, he would take the innumerable flyers that kept showing up outside his apartment door and stuff them down Werit's throat, son of a Speaker or not.

"Kendast?"  Yuni Werit eyed him curiously, practically bouncing up and down with the force of his excitement.  "Kendast, I wanted to ask you something."

Slamming his cup of coffee onto his desk—would he _ever_ get to drink his coffee in peace?—Kendast gritted his teeth.  "I don't want to hear it, Werit," he warned in a dangerously soft voice.  "I don't want to hear about programs for today's up-and-coming mentalic youth stuck on fuddy-duddy old Trantor or special groups to develop every young person's unique gifts and help them achieve their true potential as Speakers.  And I _especially_ do not want to hear about the Young Mentalics' Cerebral Association."

Werit seemed to slump a little and lose some of his bounce.  "Oh," he said a little lamely, looking down at the carpet.  "Well, then..."

"Yes?" Kendast prompted eagerly, hoping against hope that Werit would leave and let him attend to more important matters.  "Well...?"

Looking back up at Kendast, Werit explained earnestly, "You see, sir, this one's different." 

"I—see."  Slowly, Kendast turned his chair so that he faced Werit.  "So this one is different, eh?  So it doesn't involve another scheme to pander to today's youngsters and make them happy with their role in the Second Foundation, eh?  So for once you're going to concentrate on the real world and the real problems we face as the secret protectors of the known galaxy, eh?"

"Well, no, sir, not really," Werit admitted, deflating a little more.  "Actually, what I had in mind is a radically new way to bridge the generation gap between the Table and the younger members of the Second Foundation."  Brightening, he added, "With this plan, you won't be limited to giving support—you can actually make a difference in the lives of young mentalic adults.  Doesn't that sound beneficial?"

_Beneficial?!_  Since when did Werit use terms like "beneficial"?  "Beneficial," Kendast echoed, not sure he had heard right.  "What sounds beneficial to me at the moment is you leaving before I attack you with my bare hands.  Do you understand?"  He gave Werit his special glare, which he normally reserved for small biting insects and mind-to-mind solicitors.

Werit paled slightly, but stayed where he was.  "No, sir, I'm afraid I don't.  I need help for my project, and I believe you're the best person to offer it."

"The best?"  Kendast choked a little at the sheer audacity of this and felt his hands rise involuntarily from his sides, fingers outstretched and ready to strangle.  To his surprise, Werit did not flinch even from this, but raised his chin defiantly.

"Yes.  You see, I'm not as out of it as many people around here seem to think."  He gave Kendast a dark look and continued.  "From my studies of successful Second Foundationers, I gather that blackmail is often very useful in accomplishing things around here.  So—"  He shrugged.  "If you don't help me I'll blackmail you."

Kendast snorted.  "Blackmail _me?_  What with?"  He would be interested to see what the pipsqueak could come up with.

"With the evidence of your unusually great—or, in truth, not strictly legal—political influence on the previous First Speaker.  I'm sure the public would be very interested to know that you were behind some of the policies that caused his stepping down to be so well received," Werit said innocently, his dark eyes wide and honest.  "I would truly hate to bring the matter to anyone's attention, especially my father's, but..."  He trailed off, giving Kendast a falsely apologetic look.

Trying not to make it too obvious that his blood was freezing in his veins, Kendast swallowed.  "Well.  I must say, you're a bright young man."  He felt his throat constrict, trying to cut off the terrible words.  "Er...what exactly did you have in mind for this beneficial project of yours?"  After all the trouble he had gone to...the carefully maintained shields...the bribing...how had he found out?

Werit grinned like the fool he obviously was not.  "I thought you'd never ask, sir," he enthused.  "We have a wonderful new opportunity to integrate young and...um...not quite so young.  You can help new recruits adjust to their life with the Second Foundation by..."  He paused dramatically, waiting for a reaction.

"Yes!  What is it!" snapped Kendast, wishing he'd never laid eyes on Trantor.  Now he was being blackmailed by someone one-third of his age.  How could things possibly get worse?

"Teaching."

A/N: Yep, another semi-inane Foundation comedy begins.  Honestly, almost nobody has even started to explore the possibilities of the Robot and Empire books!  Not to mention _The Gods Themselves_ and _The End of Eternity_ and _Nemesis_ and Susan Calvin and Donovan and Powell and...You get my point.  After you're done reviewing my stuff, go write lots more of your own and get this section really going.  Getting back to the story, note that I made no attempt to have them converse mentalically.  That's because the explanation about how it works and the whole thing about a blind person trying to explain color to a blind audience really annoyed me.  Anyway, you will continue to see Second Foundationers talk normally throughout my stories—just warning you if you like everything the way it is in the books.  Hopefully Chapter 2 will be up soon, but if you review I might write it sooner.  *hint hint*


	2. Coercion

Disclaimer: Much to his dismay, Beno Kendast belongs to the Isaac Asimov estate.  Much to _my_ dismay, Yuni Werit belongs to me.

A/N: Yep, another chapter in my latest form of insanity.  Or would that be inanity?  Either one would be typical...Anyway, thanks for the review so far:

Comrade Pokes: Thanks!

Coercion

"Teaching."  Slowly, Kendast repeated the word.  "Teaching."  Surely, he thought, he must be hallucinating.  Surely Yuni Werit had not just announced a fiendishly flawless plan to coerce him into helping with another of his half-baked schemes.  Surely not...

He opened his mouth, looked at Werit's earnest young face, and closed it again.  Taking a deep breath, he said in his calmest voice, "Now, what exactly do you mean when you say 'teaching'?"

"What do I mean?" Werit echoed, all wide-eyed innocence.  Kendast wanted to wipe the artfully hidden smirk right off his face.

[Keep your cool,] he told himself.  [Refuse to get angry...throw him off balance.  He'll be expecting attempted murder right about now.]  Most unfortunately, Kendast would not be able to satisfy Werit's expectation.  Besides the trifling fact that such a thing would be wrong, people would surely discover his crime should Werit turn up murdered.  And right now, more trouble was the last thing he needed.

"My first thought," he said carefully, "was that 'teaching' referred to educating new recruits.  However, that would obviously be impossible.  There's no way that..."  Kendast realized he was rambling in a slightly panicked-sounding tone and stopped immediately, hoping that Werit wouldn't notice the cold sweat standing out on his forehead.

Much to Kendast's dismay, Werit smiled again.  "Oh, not impossible at all.  As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I had in mind for this program."  He put a conspiratorial hand on Kendast's shoulder.  "I really can't wait to get started on this," he said enthusiastically.  "Just think of all those happy young mentalics..."

Kendast thought and shuddered.  "I've never liked children," he managed to say, the words coming out in a squeak of sheer terror.  "Look here, I really don't think I'm the right man for the job."  He would have gone on to plead his case more forcefully, but Werit cut him off with a shake of the head.

"Of course you are," he said firmly.  "I believe we already discussed some of the consequences that will follow if you don't help me.  And we wouldn't want your reputation and career to be ruined, now would we?"  He smiled a wolfish little smile that chilled Kendast to the bone.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head.  "Of course not."  How was he going to get out of this one?  Werit showed every sign of enjoying himself immensely.  And why not?  He had just accomplished what three years of campaigning had not—Kendast was now utterly at his mercy as far as any community improvement schemes his twisted little mind might cook up.

Werit nodded amiably.  "So you'll start first thing tomorrow morning?  Splendid, splendid."  He rubbed his hands together and executed a little jig around the office.  "I have just the student for you."

Kendast winced a little despite his best efforts.  Tomorrow.  Student.  Splendid.  This was really a bit too much to handle at one time, he thought.  He wondered why Werit hadn't done this a long time ago, but the thought was drowned out by an overwhelming wave of fatigue and a need to be alone.

"All right," he growled at Werit.  "You've got me, I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning."  He shuddered.  "Now get out!"

Werit blinked at him.

"You heard me," Kendast snarled, advancing on Werit menacingly.  "Get out of my sight and let me suffer in peace."  He reached for one of the paperweights on his desk and hefted it, glaring at the young man.  Werit hastily backed toward the door, still smiling.

"Sure," he said easily.  "I guess I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, then.  This is going to be so much fun, isn't it, sir—"

Kendast slammed the door in his face.

*****

The alarm clock rang.  Seemingly of its own volition, Kendast's hand reached out and slammed the delay button.  About ten seconds later, the rest of his body woke up fully and he swung himself over to sit on the edge of his bed.

His first thought was, [Why am I waking up at six in the morning?]  This was quickly answered by his second thought.

His second thought was, [Werit...]  This was quickly accompanied by a murderous rage that made any further thinking impossible for the next ten minutes.  Once he had gotten sufficient control of himself, Kendast showered and dressed absentmindedly, already beginning to make plans for revenge.  And oh, how sweet revenge would be when it came!

At seven o'clock, Kendast reported to the small conference room that Werit had informally taken over as his headquarters.  It was impossible to miss, largely due to the huge multicolored signs plastered all over the door reading WELCOME YOUNG MENTALICS, LEND A HAND—TEACH A CHILD, and, of course, the infamous YOUNG MENTALICS' CEREBRAL ASSOCIATION.

Kendast shook his head grimly, set his teeth, and went in.

Yuni Werit was at the far end of the room, sitting on a long, rather decrepit table that had definitely seen better days.  As he caught sight of Kendast and rose to greet him, the table creaked ominously and he shot it a concerned glance before returning his attention to his newest victim.

"You're here, sir!" he said in a frighteningly cheerful tone, bounding over to Kendast and pumping his hand.  "So glad—just the right time—here!"  Despite Kendast's inarticulate protests, he dragged him across the room toward a smaller round table.  Sitting at the table was a small boy.

"Look!" Werit crowed happily at the boy, who looked nearly as frightened as Kendast himself.  "Look, I've found you a teacher!"  He paused, obviously waiting for a response.

"Great," said the boy, sounding dazed.  "Um, that's really neat.  I..."  He trailed off, not knowing what he was supposed to say.

Werit grinned at the pair.  "Stor, this is your teacher, Doctor Beno Kendast.  Sir, may I present Stor Gendibal."

Kendast knew what was expected of him.  He held out his hand to Stor, forcing a huge fake smile and saying, "Very pleased to meet you, young man.  Very pleased indeed."

"Likewise," said Stor Gendibal a little nervously.  "I, uh, well..."  The lad obviously had a problem with finishing his sentences.

As the conversation petered out for a moment, Werit stepped in.  "I hope you'll be very good friends," he told Kendast and Stor with a smile.  "In fact, I see no reason why we can't start your lessons immediately, do you, sir?"  Kendast made a face that could have been an amiable smile and shook his head.

"No reason at all," Kendast agreed, putting a hand on Stor's shoulder and steering him toward the door.  "I'll talk to you later, then."  Propelling the boy out the door, he shut it behind him with a sense of relief.

The relief lasted until he remembered that he was still stuck with the enormous responsibility and nuisance of working with the boy.  Bending down until he was on Stor's eye level, Kendast took his shoulders and asked, "How old are you, boy?"

"Er...ten, sir," Stor said shakily.  Kendast restrained a sudden feeling of rage triggered by the word "sir", which reminded him too forcefully of Werit.  Clearly something would have to be done about this.

He straightened up and stared down at Stor, who blinked up at him as only the young and relatively innocent can.  "Well, listen up, boy," Kendast growled.  "I didn't ask for this, but I have to survive it somehow.  So you will speak only when spoken to, you will not ask questions, and you will address me only as 'Dr. Kendast' or 'O Exalted One'.  _Not_ as 'sir'.  Do you understand me?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir—Dr. Kendast," the boy amended hastily.

Kendast smiled frostily.  "Good."  He turned and began to walk down the corridor, the small boy struggling to keep up with him.  If young Stor knew how to follow directions and keep his mouth shut, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.  Better yet, maybe Werit would decide that he needed someone better suited to the job...

Most unfortunately, young Stor apparently did _not_ know how to follow directions.  Thirty paces down the hallway, he asked, "Why are you doing this when you hate me and Mr. Werit?"

Stopping in his tracks, Kendast turned and glared down at him.  "I thought I told you not to talk, boy.  And what makes you think I hate anyone?"  Denying, however indirectly, that he hated Werit was enough to make his teeth hurt.

"I'm not stupid," Stor said coldly, fixing him with a glare of his own.  "O Exalted One," he added as an afterthought.

There was silence for another minute or two.  Then: "What are you a doctor of?"

"Vivisection," Kendast snarled.  "Especially little boys who don't do what they're told."

"Oh."  Pause.  "What's vivisection?"

It was going to be a long, long day.

A/N: I think I must be truly crazy.  Actually, my friend thinks so too.  He's the only person I know who likes Foundation, so I tell him my story ideas.  It's hard to scare him, but I think I managed it...This story shows every sign of being enormous fun (for me, at least—I don't know how much you're enjoying it).  It kind of helps you understand why Gendibal grew up so twisted, doesn't it?  Makes you wonder what kind of a teacher Delarmi had...Please review and I'll get the third chapter up as soon as I can!


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